Page 82 of Taming His Teacher

I’m carried along with the stream of other teachers, feeling like any minute someone’s going to turn around and say, “Take a seat, Mr. Shepherd. What are you doing marching with the faculty?” but no one does. When we reach our seats, all I pay attention to is the back of Erin’s head. She’s put her hair up in this shiny twist and there are pearls winking out of it. She’s wearing a white dress with cutouts in it like those paper chains you make when you’re a kid. It should have the opposite effect—her looking all demure—but it makes me want to drag her behind the nearest bush and push her up against one of the brick buildings, finger fuck her until her hands are twisting in the ivy and she’s pleading for my cock.

My hand goes to my pants pocket where the little velvet box is waiting. It feels heavier than it ought to, like my pants have the gravity of Jupiter. It sucks she didn’t get the promotion, but at least this day won’t be a total loss for her.

After the ceremony I try to catch her but I get cut off by one of my seniors and his parents. Darnell was in my calculus class and my first-string goalie on the hockey team. He’s going to Northwestern in the fall so I’ve been talking to him about Evanston and Chicago. I’m not going to shortchange my guys because my girlfriend’s upset. There’s no way Erin would want me to. I’m sure she’s somewhere in the crowd putting on a brave face and talking to families, too, because that’s what she does—my surprisingly tough girl. I’ll find her when the crowds disperse and then we’ll go back to her apartment where I’ll make her forget.

A couple hours later, the celebratory mob has finally dissipated. I search the clumps of stragglers for Erin’s white dress but don’t see her. Maybe she already went back to her apartment? Heaping that amount of disappointment on an already stressful day could’ve done her in. Maybe she’s dancing it out or collapsed in her tub with one of her books. I text her to check but I don’t hear back. Her silence has been pricking me with unease but now I’m getting outright concerned.

I start making my way toward Sullivan to check on her. It takes me a while to get through what remains of the crowd but by the time I reach the dorm, it’s silent. All the boys have packed up and their things have been moved out. It’s weird to have the halls so still and I’m kind of looking forward to the athletic camps starting because the quiet unnerves me, my footfalls too loud on the stairs.

Just in case she’s so wrecked she’s fallen asleep, I knock quietly on Erin’s door before I let myself in. There’s no answer and the corner of my mouth lifts. Poor little thing’s probably out cold on the couch, huddled under her blanket. But when I open the door, I’m not met by Erin’s soft, even breaths, the shape of her body curled up and dreaming. No. Instead I almost walk into a stack of cardboard boxes piled haphazardly by the door.

Chapter 24

Erin

“I’m sorry. I won’t accept this.”

Rage and frustration bubble out of my ears. They’ve been building all morning as I packed while everyone else was celebrating outside. I’ve been sitting in this living room for an hour, waiting for him so I could do this and now all of it spills out. “You don’t get to decide about this. I’m handing in my resignation and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Uncle Rett looks down at the typed letter in his hands, his bushy eyebrows creasing and his forehead wrinkling before he turns to Aunt Tilly and spreads his hands helplessly.

“Erin,” she says, taking my arm and steering me toward a settee I’ve always loved. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this? Is this about the Chair? Do you not want it after all? Too much responsibility? I have complete faith in you. Everyone on the committee agreed you’d be wonderful. And if you really don’t want it, there’s no need to leave. I’m sure we could—”

“It’s not about the Chair.” The letter’s sitting on my kitchen table where I’d cried over it for hours last night. I’d turned it over and over in my head, trying to figure out what I was going to do. I’ve always wanted to come back to the Hill—more than anything—but after everything that’s happened here, I can’t help but wonder why. Maybe my father was right to leave. Maybe there’s nothing but heartbreak for me here. Will, my miscarriage, and now Shep. “I just can’t stay here anymore.”

“Can we talk about this more? I don’t—”

“No. I’ve already packed. I’m leaving and there’s nothing you can say to talk me out of it.”

I’d stayed up all night, folding up clothes and putting them into suitcases, wrapping my dishes in newspaper and torn-apart magazines. After the worst of the crying was over, I’d scrubbed the tears from my eyes and tried to think logically. When Will and I had gotten a divorce, I’d told him he could stay and I meant it. It wouldn’t have been fun and I was glad he chose to leave in the end, but I could’ve managed seeing him wander the campus day in and day out. It would’ve stung but I could’ve done it. Shep, though… There’s no way I’d be able to stomach seeing him every day. Especially if, now that their secret was out, he started bringing Lana around campus. The very thought had made my stomach threaten to empty all over my kitchen table.

I’d thought about telling him to go. Up until now, he’s been a decent enough guy and I bet I could guilt him into doing it if a simple request didn’t work. But then I’d thought of Caleb. What would happen to him if Shep had to leave Hawthorn? It’s possible Shep would get another teaching job at some other school for the fall. But it’s also possible he might not. Or if he did, maybe they wouldn’t take Caleb. I may want to gouge Shep’s eyes out with my non-existent fingernails but Caleb shouldn’t have to pay for his brother’s transgressions. He needs to get out of that house, away from his dad. So I’ll leave and hope to find someplace I haven’t already drained all the good memories from.

A weight sinks the other side of the settee and a big hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “I’m not sure what’s going on and I don’t know if there’s anything we can do but I wish you’d talk to us, Erin. I know you’ve had a hard time of it since your grandfather died and you’ve had more than your fair share of bumps in the road since you got here, but I think it’s rash of you to leave. Kent would be so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished here. I really wish he would’ve lived long enough to see you back on the Hill.”

I thought I’d cried all the tears I had to cry, but I was wrong. When Uncle Rett started talking about my grandfather, my eyes welled and now the tears are about to spill over. I don’t want to disappoint my grandfather but I can’t imagine he’d want me to live with the humiliation of having to see Shep around campus every day. He only ever wanted me to be happy, no matter what or where that meant.

“I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”

A frown draws down the corners of his mouth but then there’s a stubborn set to his jaw. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll hold on to this letter and if at the end of two weeks you still want to leave, I won’t stop you. But please, take some time.”

Aunt Tilly is still holding my hand on the other side and she squeezes it. “Will you do that, Erin? Please?”

“It won’t change anything. He—”

Her dark eyes widen and then narrow until she looks so fierce I think she might snarl. “Is this about Zach Shepherd? What did he do?”

I shake my head. I hadn’t meant to say anything. When Will had turned out to be a terrible choice, I’d kept mum on exactly why and I’ll do the same for Shep. I appreciate my aunt’s loyalty, though. She’s usually a gentle soul but I’ve seen what happens when people have made the mistake of crossing her loved ones, which includes every boy who’s ever passed through this campus. It’s not pretty.

I’m having wishful daydreams about the hellfire Aunt Tilly would rain down on Shep if she knew what he’s done when there’s a pounding at their front door.

* * *

Shep

I’ve searched Erin’s whole apartment. She’s not here. It’s just boxes upon boxes and overflowing trash cans. I’ve started pacing the hallway, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on when I see a glint out of the corner of my eye. There’s something on the kitchen table, where we’ve eaten so many bowls of oatmeal or macaroni and cheese. When I get closer, I can tell it’s Erin’s necklace, the one I gave her. The one she never takes off. And underneath it is a piece of paper. The red and blue crest gracing the corner says it’s a letter from the school. I pick it up and scan it:

Dear Ms. Brewster,

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